


Thirty-One Holidays of Wolf-Girl (Formerly Twenty-Five)

by goldandbeloved



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Play, BDSM, Biting, Bloodplay, Bondage, Canes, Chains, Consensual Incest, Cuddles, Cuddling, D/s, DominantCersei, DominantJaime, F/F, F/M, Flogging, House Lannister, Incest, Kink, Laughter During Sex, Lemon Cakes, Love, Lust, M/M, Master/Slave, Multi, OT3, Older Man/Younger Woman, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Pack Dynamics, Penetration, Petplay, Predator/Prey, Queer Het, Roleplay, Scratching, Sex Toys, Snowballing, Spanking, Strap-on play, Submission, The Wolf-Girl Who Longed for the Sun, Threesome, Triad - Freeform, True Love, Whips, chivalric fetishism, joy, lannister fetish, lemon cakes are aftercare, ménage à trois, needleplay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:48:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5334662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldandbeloved/pseuds/goldandbeloved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because the holidays can be rough; a short fic or drabble about our pride every day till December 25th (maybe a little more)--like an Advent calendar with happy saucy fiction instead of chocolates. I'll be bringing in a few friends to add treats as well. Please feel free to email me with ideas and I hope you enjoy!</p><p>NB: As per the holidays-indulgent. Made it to Thirty-One. Happy New Year!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pomander (CerseixSansa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: This first story contains play piercing. If you do not enjoy that, skip it--there will be more stories.

Sansa sits in the Queen’s solar, concentrating on an orange, a jar of cloves. It’s extravagantly wonderful; satisfying pop of skin, soft mist of orange, rich spice of so many cloves. Sansa has to close her eyes and breathe in, sigh at its sweetness. She slides a strand of garnet hair behind her ear, finishes, rolls it in orris root, plans excitedly for the notions seller and his gold ribbons. It’s a present.  
“Crafty little dove.” Sansa feels a warm breath behind her ear, soft, strong arms around her. She leans her head back into her Lady’s bosom. “Always making something pretty.”  
Sansa grins and tries to nuzzle but is held fast. Cersei lets go with a wicked grin. “I want to make something pretty.” she purrs, holds out a needle case--but here the needles have fine gold thread, drops of carnelian and citrine to sway with every motion, each breath. Sansa purrs in anticipation of the needle sliding in and out of her skin, leaving her decked in solid sunlight, frozen sunset. “Minx.” Cersei grins and starts to undo the ties on Sansa’s gown; Cersei’s thought of how pretty these will look dangling from her girl’s ivory breasts.  
“I’m afraid I’ve got no skill for crafts.” Cersei pauses.”Except needlework.” Sansa’s purr turns to a gentle smile, breath of a kind laugh. Her Queen has made a joke. Sansa’s the only one who hears her jokes. “Breathe in.” Cersei whispers and the first needle’s through pinned through Sansa’s skin, its ornament twinkling in the sunlight.”Good girl.” murmurs Cersei, favoring Sansa with a tiny kiss on the lips. “You’ll just have to guide me along--you’ll tell me if I’m doing it properly, won’t you, little dove?” Sansa mumbles in bliss already rushing from her body’s flow of blood, flow of pleasure. “Good. I may have a bit of skill in crafts after all.” Cersei readies the second needle; the air smells of musk, a bit of metal and wafting from the side table, clove and orange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crafty fun!
> 
> How to make an orange pomander:  
> http://www.instructables.com/id/Pomander-ball-Christmas-gift/
> 
> Histories of medieval pomanders and scents:  
> http://www.gallowglass.org/jadwiga/herbs/scents.html#Pomanders
> 
> How to make a beeswax pomander:  
> https://airmidbotanicals.wordpress.com/2013/11/18/make-your-own-medieval-pomander/


	2. Savor (JaimexSansa)

Cook is kind, happy to let Sansa sit at the hearth, nibble a broken apricot tart, her lips sweetened. Outside, strong arms wrap her, scent of honey, spices, musk. “Going for a treat?” Sansa blushes. Ser Jaime kisses.  
“Apricot.” he purrs. “Need to spoil my appetite.” he growls: into a corner, under her skirt, looking up, his wicked grin. “Silence, naughty girl.” His tongue circles, she’s sweating, silent. “Noise means I won’t let you.” He buries his face in her cunt, tongue, lips furious, savoring his treat; Sansa bites her hand, tasting salt, coming as she silently whispers his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medieval fruit tarts including apricot!:  
> http://www.innatthecrossroads.com/2011/06/17/medieval-fruit-tarts-blueberry-strawberry-apricot-cherry/


	3. Smoke (TywinxSansa)

The study smells rich as a sept: Sansa admires the tiny glow of the burner on the hearth. Part is Tywin Lannister, the myrrh, daemonorops she smells on him: today there’s a sharpness. Pine. She closes her eyes, breathes in the way it mingles with the salt sea below  
Tywin arrives. Sansa sleeps on the hearthrug, curled like a kitten. His eyes shimmer gold at the thought of her claws and teeth, he covers her with a wine fur-lined cloak, sits.  
She’ll be in his arms when she wakes. The Great Lion watches the fire, guards his russet cub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to make your own incense (with section on resins):  
> http://incensemaking.com/making-incense.htm


	4. Comfort (JaimexSansa)

Ser Jaime arrives after sparring, dirt in his hair, grass stained breeches, too quiet. He nods to Sansa, slips off his shirt. Sansa sees bruises; she moves her lion to the bed, gets oil for soreness. Firelight flickers over his body, skin shines. Sansa works her hands over his back, working shoulder to shoulder, pressing along the spine, kneading, caressing till there are no knots, till her Ser purrs. Sansa nuzzles him, gets a soft nip on her ear; he clutches her to his side like a favorite toy. Soon they’re both sleeping, warm and soothed, wrapped round in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! My apologies for the delay; have had an awful fibro flare.  
> And a how-to for natural muscle relaxants:  
> http://pioneerthinking.com/health/how-to-decrease-muscle-tensions-with-natural-muscle-relaxants


	5. White (CerseixSansa)

“Tell me something--about you.” Cersei whispers to Sansa, both of them veiled with sweat. Sansa begins;  
“When the snow fell, it was a strange dream--heavy, white, silent. All the trees groaned from the weight. From the highest tower, I saw a white sea.” Sansa shivers. Cersei cuddles her closer. “Ravens were drops of ink. You could die from being out at night, blood frozen in your veins. It was beautiful, frightening. No one for miles means all alone. No way to get out.” Sansa’s body shudders. The Queen kisses her forehead. “You’re warm here.” “Always.” purrs Sansa, kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To help you stay warm:  
> Nutella hot chocolate:  
> http://www.abeautifulmess.com/2014/11/nutella-hot-chocolate.html


	6. Triptych I: Sip  (TywinxSansa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by GoldandBeloved

Outside, the rain lashes the Rock, the wind so hard it drives the rain straight to the stone. There’s a chill.  
In the study, Sansa sips from a heavy glass: saffron, cinnamon, nutmeg, pepper, honey and Arbor Gold. She warms her hands wrapping her white fingers ‘round the cup, leaning against the Great Lion’s doublet, the one the color of dried blood.  
Tywin’s given up on his own drink, wrapping Sansa in his arms. She’ll keep him warm: she nestles her head against him, peace and comfort, then she feels the thrumming in his chest.  
In here, Tywin Lannister purrs.


	7. Triptych II: Bite  (TywinxSansa)

Chapter by goldandbeloved

Sansa snuggles Tywin, breathing him in. Quickly, she bares her neck. She knows what happens to cubs who tease.  
A large, ringed hand pins her. Gentle strokes, hot breath on the back of her neck then teeth.  
Sansa breathes, riding the waves, pain then sweetness.  
When she thinks she’s going to--  
rough fingertips soothe the bite, stroke her, tidy her hair, curl her against his chest, soft brush of kiss on her forehead. Sansa presses her lips to his doublet in gratitude, closes her eyes.  
The Great Lion holds her close and when she sleeps, he does too. Warm. Secure. 


	8. Triptych III: Queen (TywinxSansa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by GoldandBeloved

Three chests on the table; one gold, one silver, one lead.  
The Great Lion watches.  
Curious.  
Sansa looks, runs her fingers over arcs of gold, icy silver, rough hammerblows on the lead. Her head furrows.  
Without hesitation she chooses the lead.  
Tywin nods, she opens.  
Gold, rubies, emerald; Sansa’s dazzled.  
A scroll; the Great Lion’s hand.  
_It’s time you had a crown._  
His hands fit heavy gold to garnet hair.  
A kiss, tender, fierce, tender.  
Sansa rests on Tywin’s lap, his hand on hers, her head high, sips her wine.  
She’d rather reign here than any of the Seven Heavens.


	9. Hunt (CerseixJaimexSansa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by GoldandBeloved

Sansa runs through the Kingswood, branches cracking, scent of dead leaves, pine crushed under her feet. Her heart pounds.  
Thorns tear at her gown, her fingers.  
They can smell blood.  
They’re coming.  
Implacable. Beautiful.  
Unstoppable.  
Sansa hasn’t planned well at all.  
Four emeralds blink. Stalk.  
Striking as one: Ser Jaime tackling her,Cersei scruffing Sansa’s neck. Sansa wants her lions to consume her, gasping as--  
Claws are gentle hands, stroking under her dress. Petting.  
Snarls become words.  
“My dearest love.”  
(Sansa grins.)  
“We’ve caught a little wolf-girl. Whatever shall we do with her?”  
Fangs become wicked smiles. It’s playtime.


	10. Gifts (CerseixJaimexSansa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by GoldandBeloved

A quill, scented oil; drawing how they’ll decorate her when the time comes.  
Her lions love this game.  
Lines on Sansa’s thigh; “You know this.”  
“Lion. Brand.” Sansa purrs.  
“My clever girl.”  
Ser nibbles, she smiles.  
Scribed vines over her shoulders; new.  
“Volantene work. Red and gold. Perfect.” Cersei’s voice, her lips on Sansa’s.  
“Gift for gift.” Ser Jaime rumbles. “You’ll get one first.”   
Sansa understands, cries in lust, joy; caresses on her belly, firm fingers inside: Sansa flows, they all entwine.  
Held close, Sansa dreams of flowers inked in her skin, their priceless gift cradled in the pride’s arms.


	11. Restorative (CerseixSansa)

The day weighs heavy as ingots on the Queen’s shoulders; meetings that drone, letters, the great game all dull words today. She grits her teeth, swears as she smiles. The steel in her spine splits her as she walks.  
Her chambers, Sansa; no need for words. Unlacing, unknotting, cutting stitches,Cersei holding out each arm like an exhausted child. Her dress spills red on the floor, Cersei’s skin bare, striped with the bites of laces, stays. Then the softness of Sansa’s lap, a lullaby, lavender oil on her skin.  
The lioness sleeps, safe in the embrace of her wolf-cub.


	12. Present (TywinxSansa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by GoldandBeloved

Laid out like a banquet on the study table; polished, lovely, eyes closed.   
Sansa knows gifts cannot be quantified, measured, predicted; secure inside the ivory and ruby egg of herself, she waits to become.  
(The newest cub waits a long time to meet the first male of the pride. He comes to them. There’s always a risk.)  
The air stirs. Dameonorops, myrrh, ink and the honey and spices; warmth uncurling inside her. A rough hand, heavy rings at her cheek, callused fingertip tracing her lip. Sansa’s kiss soft as tawny fur.  
A low rumble of pleasure. Like that, she belongs.


	13. Stocking (Jaimex Sansa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by GoldandBeloved

Laundry day.  
Ser Jaime polishes weaponry at the table, smell of musk, metal.  
Sansa likes it.  
Clean hose in her teeth, Sansa crawls, bats her Ser’s ankle.  
He drops, shakes his golden mane, growls.  
They tug, fight, pounce, chase--  
Sansa’s caught.  
Her lion pins her; she purrs, spreads.  
He fucks his naughty girl, teaches who runs their pride--so well she spills thrice, so much fluid, such a little cub.  
She glows, he’s exhausted.  
Happy.  
Ser Jaime yawns, hugs her tightly. She nuzzles.  
They sleep on the carpet, nestled in surcoats, clean shirts.  
Sunbeams warm them, paint their bodies gold.


	14. Treat (CerseixSansa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by GoldandBeloved

Cersei allows herself a shiver of pleasure, uncovers the dish.  
Rich, glorious scent: fried golden cakes, feather light.  
She can’t eat them at table.  
Godsdamned _manners_. _Undignified. Messy. Food for children._  
(At feasts, Cersei is jealous. Children can have greasy hands-- better, can wipe them on people they dislike.  
The Queen has no such luxury.)  
Westeros’ feared Queen smiles like a little girl, eats rapturously.  
(Later: empty dish, tangled sheets, kissed, fucked, she and Sansa joyful gluttons for each other. )  
Cersei dips a piece in applesauce for Sansa, quivers with pleasure: nibbles, licks, kisses. Her good girl.  
The feast begins.


	15. Réveillon (CerseixJaimexSansa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: Happy Belated Holidaymas! This was supposed to be on the 25th, but I was ill, so here it is now. Thank you and I hope you enjoy a drabblex10!
> 
> Also, this is in the world of San Francisco (You Got Me), so quasi-modern setting but lots of holiday joy!

The Fairmont Hotel’s brought them the finest treats; local raw milk cheeses and charcuterie, frites dusted with sea salt and truffle oil, bites of lobster in sweet cream butter, round globes of red grapes, olives stuffed with almonds, angels on horseback, sizzling dates wrapped in bacon--and of course they spoil Sansa, a plate of macarons in pink, pistachio, gold, lavender, ice blue, petit fours with perfect red and gold flowers, rich with lemon and sugar. Then there’s the champagne, which Ser Jaime’s opened with a pop, pouring three glasses and so they toast and drink.  
Sansa giggles in pleasure as she and her loves eat on the huge bed wiping their sticky fingers on linen napkins. Cersei nibbles a bit of crisp-bread with pate, watching Ser Jaime feed Sansa a macaron bite by crumbling golden bite and thinks that a luxury suite is really the best place to spend a holiday, jingling bells and snow be damned.  
She glances over at her loves, eyes the delicious lavender ruffles and cobalt blue hip bows on Sansa’s extravagant panties, Ser Jaime’s gilded skin from fighting outside.  
Luscious. Far better than ironic ugly sweaters.

Cersei picks up a warm frite, motions to Sansa. Sansa nuzzles her Lady’s neck then slips down to take tiny bites, savor the heat and salt on her tongue. The way her pink tongue laps at her Queen’s fingers makes Cersei have to grit her teeth, be patient and not pull open the vivid blue bow on her girl’s hip. Patience.

While Cersei doesn’t care for patience, she adores the way Sansa smiles up at her, guileless pleasure, pure beauty and joy. Ser Jaime winks, reaches under the pillow. Cersei feeds Sansa another frite, enjoying her girl’s pleasure at the richness of the oil, the salty slickness, the taste of her Lady’s fingers after she has a treat. Her Queen’s made sure that Sansa’s eaten meats, cheeses fruit for strength. Cersei thinks that if left to it Jaime would let Sansa eat every macaron at once, for he’s as bountiful at spoiling as he is at devising wicked ways to ensure his girl behaves. Sansa wriggles seductively as she eats an olive. Cersei admires the fading cane marks on the back of Sansa’s thighs and has to grit her teeth, think of other things so as not to ravish her right there. She’s always had an affinity for thinking as a man, smirks and sighs inwardly at sharing the agony of lust while being denied a luscious girl.

Sansa curls up, her head in Cersei’s lap, her ruby hair spilled over Cersei’s milk-white thigh. Ser Jaime spoons behind Sansa, nuzzling her neck, rubbing against her as she cuddles like a kitten, eyes closed so she can feel every second of delight.

Cersei strokes Sansa’s hair as Sansa purrs with pleasure, Sansa’s toes curling and uncurling, the way she does when something feels so good she can hardly bear it. Cersei’s smile softens gently, then she grins, whispers:  
“You do get to open one gift tonight, because you’ve been such a good girl.”  
“And you’ve only been naughty in the best ways.” Ser Jaime nips at Sansa’s ear, kissing the same spot in a flash as he and Cersei hand her the gold-wrapped box that rested under the pillow.  


Sansa’s smile is soft and warm; Cersei and Jaime could bask in it forever, like sunlight. “Thank you Ser. Thank you, my Lady.” Sansa slowly unties the gold silk ribbon, rolling it into a shimmering oval, her fingertips working slowly on the wrapping paper, so as not to tear it.  
Ser Jaime curls behind Cersei, kissing her white shoulders, breathing in the scent of her golden hair, feeling her tiny motions. He knows his sister wishes Sansa would hurry. Cersei always shreds her wrapping paper.

Sansa opens the box, struck silent with wonder, smiling in utter delight. It’s rose gold, spun and woven into a perfect ribbon, delicate enough to tie. Smiling, she dips her head in submission, shakes back her garnet hair, proffering the necklace to her Ser and her Lady. Cersei notices the bit of watering in Ser Jaime’s eyes, feels a tiny sting at the corner of her own, but smooths it over for now. 

Cersei takes one end, Jaime the other. Working as one they tie the necklace around Sansa’s neck, so she’s like a wrapped gift herself. Ser Jaime holds a mirror for Sansa to admire which she does, then Ser Jaime and Cersei can’t do much else but be kissed and cuddled and snuggled and thanked breathlessly. 

She can get away with it tonight. It’s almost a holiday.

The kisses continue as they all move lower to the rich white sheets, down pillows of the bed. Cersei can finally pull at the bow on Sansa’s hip and watch it untie, reveal. The pleasure is exquisite. Then all is warm bodies and kisses and joy.

Sansa lies in Ser Jaime and Cersei’s arms, Cersei toying with a nipple to make her sigh, Ser Jaime moving his fingers low along her belly, caressing. When Sansa thinks her body can’t take anymore, she rocks back and forth again with joy, reduced to mumbling and cooing words of love to her darling twins. 

Cersei gently tugs at the necklace. “It’s delicate and so strong. Beautiful. Just like you. Our very own sweetest girl. “ “Forever?” murmurs Sansa, eyes blinking sleepily, wanting to stay awake, but curling up, skin on skin to sleep. Cersei nods. “Sounds good.” murmurs Ser Jaime, giving Sansa a tiny kiss on the lips. Like that, she’s asleep, safe, secure, joyful--because Sansa knows the sunlit golden ribbon ties her to them for always too.

Ser Jaime leans over to kiss Cersei, her sliding closer, kissing and kissing till they’re breathless again. For now, they’re going to spoil their girl by sleeping on either side of her. For tomorrow, the pretty red silks decorating the tree in the suite’s main room will fit perfectly round her wrists and ankles, so she can only watch and sigh as Cersei and Jaime devour each other, fuck like each moment is a gift itself--and then they’ll let her cuddle and perhaps see how eager her pretty pink tongue is to explore. 

But before that there will be more gifts for naughty girls and boys and even they need to sleep. Cuddled together, their tiny pride sleeps on snowy mounds of sheets and blankets, safe, secure and joyous. Outside, the lights of San Francisco blaze like a million stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's necklace:  
> http://us.boucheron.com/en_us/the-creations/jewelry/delilah/delilah-pink-gold-necklace.html


	16. Stars (SansaxCersei)

Cersei pants, growls, snarls as Sansa laves Cersei’s ivory cock with her pretty pink tongue. Sansa tips her head, takes her Queen to the root.  
Starlight spinning through her blood, Cersei’s body feels whole, glorious.  
_(her girl’s never been cruel, always lavished her Lady’s cock with as much love as any other part of her Lady’s body)_  
Coming, Cersei murmurs _little dove, little dove,_ a sweet prayer.  
_(any god that would damn her or her cub for this isn’t worth having)_  
Sansa’s slippery kiss outshines any seven-pointed star, sweeter than any heaven of the old gods or the new.


	17. Treasure (TywinxSansa)

The Great Lion hates disturbances in his sanctuary, even a carpet so soft a little cub can sleep on it.  
His closest men unroll it: inside, Sansa, eyes lined black, draped only in Lannister jewels. Tywin delights.  
 _His little Queen._  
Like a gentleman, Tywin lifts Sansa. They both know Tywin is no gentleman; they know the Great Lion’s tiny lioness will be fucked fiercely, reminded of her place.   
Leader keeps order; a mutual, frenzied pleasure. Sansa purrs, waits.  
Both are sore, marked, pleased. Kissed.  
Tywin was right; the carpet is perfectly soft.   
Sansa sleeps warm, safe in her lion’s paws.


	18. Awakening the World

Sansa untangles herself, gasps at the chilled floor, walks to the window.  
(Some say Lann wanted Casterly Rock so he could easily keep stealing the sun’s gold, none the wiser.)  
Those at the Rock are first to see each day.  
Sansa’s hair shines ruby, gold.  
Sansa looks down to ships, sea, across the blue horizon.  
Dawn.  
She whispers.  
“Welcome.”  
Sansa scurries back through the bedcurtains, into her Ser’s arms where he growls, holds her tight, Cersei’s arm around him. Sansa nestles to his chest, purrs herself to sleep.  
When they wake, it’s to the most beautiful morning in the world.


End file.
